


Fap God

by Edgelord (lostlikeme)



Series: Bathroom Division [4]
Category: Bandom, Eminem (Musician), Music RPF, My Chemical Romance, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anal Play, Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 09:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13431618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlikeme/pseuds/Edgelord
Summary: “Aye, pretty boy,” says the rapper. “Show me what that mouth can do.”





	Fap God

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Eminem's new album all the way through twice. It was terrible, but I enjoyed it immensely and it inspired me to write this. This one takes place a couple years before now, around 2015, maybe. There will probably be at least one more installment after this.

The television screen flatlining across from the toilet seat fixes itself suddenly, and Gerard glances over his shoulder at the sound of Judge Judy’s iconic, ear-splitting voice. She’s reaming an overweight housewife for not taking pictures of the property damage when Eminem yanks on Gerard’s mauve necktie. The tiles swerve as he scans the ceiling. Sobriety is a cold, withholding bitch.

“Aye, pretty boy,” says the rapper. “Show me what that mouth can do.”

Gerard expected him to be soft, something like a marshmallow, gooey in the middle from too many tea parties with his two daughters. Instead, he finds that Eminem is unclouded, mellowed out; taking up a different kind of space. It dawns on him that Slim Shady isn’t here, that the whole persona was a front. Gerard has changed too. His face is rounder, not as pale without all the makeup. 

“Hello? Anybody in there?” Eminem jostles him. “ET phone home.”

“Sorry,” Gerard mutters, distracted. 

He turns to face him and ends up locked in place by a white knuckled grip in his hair, boxed in like they’re about to fight. This is where the fear hid. Gerard blinks. Dark hair, dark eyes. Hair along the perimeter of his jaw and chin. Have they always been this old? Gerard is the dumb blond now. 

“Listen up, Jersey boy.” 

Eminem’s fingers push into his cheek, then his mouth. There’s no resistance. Gerard is weak for it, the heat against his hip and the pressure building in the back of his skull when Eminem drags their foreheads together.

“How did you know-”

Eminem rolls his eyes. The room is too big for what they’re doing in it. 

“Even I can work the google machine.”

He kisses like the underside of a skillet left on simmer. His tongue maps out the shape of his mouth, his knee finds the space between Gerard’s legs. Their skin conducts heat through the layers of clothes and Gerard makes a wet, whimpery sound around the tongue he’s sucking.

“That’s it,” Eminem says, cradling Gerard’s head in his hand. “Slut.” 

Gerard spreads his legs at the insult, opening himself up. Eminem reaches his arm out, hand resting on Gerard’s shoulder. He presses down and Gerard gives without further guidance, drawn to the floor where he belongs. He watches with wide, kohl rimmed eyes as Eminem shuts the toilet seat behind him, drops his pants, and plops down against the threaded seat cover. He pulls up his feet one at a time, before spreading his ass so Gerard can get a good look at his hole. 

“Come on,” he complains, jerking his hips. “Finger me.”

Gerard stares helplessly. The muscle in Eminem’s arm flexes as he grips the tank to keep balance, elbow bent. He snakes his other hand between his legs to pull on his half-hard cock. 

“For a girly boy, you really don’t know your way around a dick.”

“I’m married,” Gerard says, and then, less serious. “And I almost never eat meat.”

“So? Isn’t you supposed to be part of some gender revolution?” He’s easily three times as loud, and sits all the way up when he speaks.  
“Or do you just like the taste of dick in your mouth?”

“Are you asking if I’m bi?”

“No.” Eminem reaches for a cylindrical container from over his shoulder and unscrews the lid. “Are you?”

“I...I guess.”

He grabs Gerard’s hands in his own, coating them with something slick. Gerard bites his lip, sweating through his button up shirt, but too scared to take it off. His right hand teeters forward, palm up, before Gerard slides his greasy middle finger down Eminem’s crack.

“Don’t be such a - man up.” 

Eminem tightens his grip around Gerard’s wrist, forcing his fingers inside. His jaw tenses and Gerard gasps, silenced by the firecracker eye contact. Eminem’s sphincter contracts around the intrusion, and his hand flies behind him again to grip the tank so he can inch his hips forward. 

“Blow me.”

“Okay - you mean - uh,” Gerard exhales. “Fuck.”

His lips seal around the rigid shaft, pixie like and bright pink. Eminem furrows his brow, curling his fist around the base of his dick. He feeds it down Gerard’s throat, jerking himself off until there’s drool on his knuckles. Gerard tries to pull back, but he can’t, gagging around the shaft nudging his uvula.

“Shit, even bitches eat ass now.” Eminem threads his fingers in Gerard’s bleached hair, mashing his face into his pubes. “You can do better than that.”

Gerard’s fingers twitch inside Eminem’s hot, tight flesh, and the cock in his mouth jumps, smearing precum across his palette. He twists his fingers, reaching, and Eminem’s face contorts with pleasure. 

“Shit yeah, fuck,” Eminem mutters, surprisingly inarticulate. “Eat my cum,” he demands, nostrils flaring. “Swallow it.”

Eminem sits up to hold him still and piston his hips deeper, eyes scrunched shut. Gerard feels his cock pulse before the first stream of cum paints the back of his throat. His eyes roll back and he inhales hard through his nose, struggling not to suffocate. Eminem keeps jerking off into his mouth afterward, squeezing the last of the semen from his dick. 

When Eminem finally releases him, his vision is spotty and there’s a lump in his throat. He carefully retracts his fingers and licks his lips, chest heaving. Gerard has been bracing himself for this part. The rejection. Eminem looks at him like he wants to say no but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“Get up.” 

The moment Gerard stands, Eminem is on him, bending him over the toilet seat. Gerard jerks himself out of the blazer, buttons on his shirt fit to burst. Eminem doesn’t comment on the poor fit, but he pinches his chest and kicks Gerard’s legs apart until they form a V. When he tears his cock free Gerard whimpers, curling into himself as Eminem starts to work his erection.

“There you go G,” Eminem breathes into his neck. Gerard braces his elbow on the back of the toilet and bows his head. His cock jerks wetly against Eminem’s palm. “You got it. Show me how much of a horny little bitch you are for this dick.”

Gerard finds himself staring at his own converse sneakers twisting against the floor, and the dark shadow looming behind him. He’s so nervous it hurts, knotted and hungry. Eminem snaps his hips and grinds his crotch in Gerard’s ass. 

“Open it.”

Gerard gasps, lips shiny. The filing cabinet in his brain flies open and papers scatter across the floor. He moves to obey but the neurons short circuit, leaving his hand hanging awkwardly in the air. Eminem twists his wrist and keeps pace, squeezing the soft, pink head of Gerard’s cock with his thumb. 

“The toilet,” Eminem clarifies. “Before you nut all over me.”

He can’t process the command and manage the coordination to complete the task, not this close to coming. Eminem soldiers on - relentless, bruising, almost chafing his dick - until Gerard thinks he might die, until his knees give out and he’s sobbing. 

“Fuck me,” Gerard begs, eyelashes wet. “Please, please, fuck.”

Eminem pulls him up, holding him in place and stroking him off with steady, measured power until he blows like an overloaded fuse. Gerard can’t handle the oversensitivity and Eminem won’t stop, milking him even after he’s started to cum, wringing his dick dry. Gerard rises onto the tips of his toes, knees buckling, when his vision whites out. 

Nothing but black and white fuzz. Static. 

Sensations return slowly - porcelain cooling the blood in his cheek, a thick arm wrapped around his middle - his own body, slumped forward like a dead weight. A calloused hand slaps him in the stomach, dragging across his skin and leaving a trail of cum in its wake. Eminem untangles himself and steps away, and a gust of cold air rushes to take his place. Gerard sags forward before catching himself. When he finally staggers to his feet Eminem has removed the last of his clothes, opting to lean against the doorframe naked.

“I like your bathroom.”

Eminem laughs. “I can’t wait to move.”


End file.
